


It's Pink. That Makes It Cute.

by onlyinafigurativesense



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Autistic Keith (Voltron), Galaxy Garrison, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Trans Keith (Voltron), Trans Male Character, Vibrators, idk itll get to sex eventually but the first chapter or so is them being Disasters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 21:40:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19259677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyinafigurativesense/pseuds/onlyinafigurativesense
Summary: “I’m just saying, if he was choking the chicken in our dorm, he might want to be ‘your’ something. Either that or he’s just really, really horny.”Shiro considered that for a moment, staring at his fries. “He, uh. It might just be the second one.”Shiro thinks he overhears Keith jacking off. Matt thinks Keith wanted Shiro to hear. Shiro thinks that's stupid, because Keith is... probably not interested in him. Matt thinks Shiro is an idiot. Matt is probably right.





	It's Pink. That Makes It Cute.

**Author's Note:**

> ~canon~ can suck my nonexistant left nut so:
> 
> -keith is 18 when he joins the garrison  
> -shiro and matt are also students, a few years ahead of keith  
> -adam aint a thing
> 
> im trans & autistic and so is keith. dont like it? get outta my house, thot

There was no ‘good way’ to start this conversation. Shiro knew that, and he knew that once he started it, he wouldn’t be able to back out. Matt was like that. Matt was also the only person he could trust with something like this, and he needed to trust  _ someone _ with it. He felt like he was going to explode. So, while they picked up food from one of the nearby sub shops, he calculated. There was no good way to start this conversation, but there might be… a less damaging way to do it. He waited until they’d settled on the couch in their room, waited until Matt was partway through tearing into the paper that encased his tuna salad sub (no onion, yes tomato). He opened his own styrofoam box of fries, taking a steadying breath.

 

“Um,” Shiro said, and Matt let out an exasperated noise.

 

“Okay, what is going on with you?” he demanded, setting down his half-unwrapped sandwich. “You’ve been acting weird all morning. What happened?”

 

“Nothing!” Shiro lied, “Nothing. Just, um. You know.”

 

Matt rolled his eyes. “No,” he said, “I don’t know. Because you won’t tell me. Fess up, man, what has a stick up your ass?”

 

Shiro winced. “Phrasing.”

 

Matt stopped, tipping his head as his gaze flicked down to Shiro’s hips. “Wait. Did you get something stuck up your-”

 

“No! Jesus. No. I mean, not exactly.” Matt’s eyebrows shot up. “Not- It’s not  _ me _ , it’s- stop  _ looking _ at me like that, fuck, it’s not- nobody got anything. Stuck anywhere, just.” Shiro dragged his hands down his face, exhaling heavily. “I. Overheard something.”

 

“Something.”

 

“...Someone.” Shiro kept his head in his hands, unable to look Matt in the eye. “Keith.”

 

“Oh,” Matt said, and the softness of his voice made Shiro look up, confused. “Shit, Shiro, I’m sorry.”

 

“You’re- What? Why are  _ you _ sorry?”

 

“Because, man, that sucks. I know we haven’t really talked about it, but it’s pretty obvious you have a thing for him. It’s gotta sting to hear him getting it on with someone else.”

 

“That’s not- He wasn’t with someone else,” Shiro said, and Matt blinked, processing.

 

“Oh,” he said, and Shiro nodded.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Matt frowned, squinting at him. “How did you even… hear that?”

 

Shiro shifted uncomfortably in his seat, picking at the couch cushion. “He was, um. He was in our bathroom? It was the night he crashed here. When he stayed really late studying?”

 

“ _ What _ ?”

 

“Yeah. He was in there for a long time and- and I went to check on him and heard. You know. Buzzing.”

 

Matt swallowed. “Maybe it was, uh. Clippers or something? Like an electric razor.”

 

Shiro shook his head. “I know what clippers sound like.”

 

“Huh,” Matt said after a moment, then: “In our bathroom?”

 

Shiro nodded, putting his head back in his hands. “Yeah. For like, a while. He was making, um. Noises and stuff.”

 

“Aw,” said Matt, and Shiro stiffened.

 

Shiro knew that tone. Matt used it for a lot of things: small animals; overzealous kids; Shiro, when he was trying to solve a math problem that required a few more IQ points than he possessed. It was a weird blend of sincere-condescending that really only added to Matt’s whole… obnoxious but effectively harmless persona. Shiro still wasn’t sure if Matt cultivated that image intentionally or not. He hadn’t even really considered that it  _ needed _ to be one or the other until Keith brought it up. Which brought him back to the issue at hand- Shiro knew that tone, and it was  _ not _ one Matt used when he was talking about  _ Keith _ .

 

“What?”

 

Matt finished unwrapping his sandwich and took a bite, either oblivious to or unbothered by Shiro’s too-tense reaction.

 

“I mean,” Matt said through a mouthful of lettuce, swallowing before he continued. “It’s kind of cute, right?”

 

Shiro felt his lip twitch. “Cute?” he asked, and made a derisive noise when Matt nodded. “I don’t think you’re allowed to call Keith cute.”

 

Matt’s head turned towards him so fast Shiro jumped, nearly upsetting the takeout box on his lap. Matt cackled and Shiro shoved his shoulder, sending him thunking into the arm of the couch. “Shut the fuck up, man,” he said, shoveling french fries back into the box with his other hand, and Matt wheezed, wiping at his eyes.

 

“Dude,” he said, and Shiro scowled. Matt nudged at him, raising an eyebrow. “So?”

 

“So, what?”

 

“So, why am I not allowed to call Keith cute?”

 

Shiro tensed. This was a trap. It was a trap, and he’d walked right into it. “I- Quit elbowing me, man, come on.”

 

“Answer, then. Why are you allowed to call him cute but not me?”

 

_ Trap, trap, trap. _ “I don’t call Keith cute,” he said, and Matt leaned his chin in his hand. “I don’t!”

 

“Not out  _ loud _ ,” Matt said, and Shiro felt the traitorous heat of a blush scrawl itself across his cheeks. Matt raised his eyebrows. Shiro panicked.

 

“I,” he said, “Keith doesn’t like being called cute.”

 

Matt tilted his head. “And you know this  _ how _ ?”

 

_ Trap, trap,  _ **_trap_ ** . “Because he. Told me.”

 

“Uh huh. And what could  _ possibly _ have been the context for that conversation?” Matt rammed their shoulders together, grinning. “Relax, dude. I’m not trying to encroach on your turf.”

 

Shiro bristled, offended on Keith’s behalf. “He’s not my  _ turf _ ,” he asserted, “He’s not ‘my’ anything. He’s his own- He’s a person.”

 

“A person who was jerking it in our bathroom,” Matt said, and Shiro choked.

 

“That is not- Matt,” he said, scandalised, and Matt held his hands up.

 

“Hey, you’re the one who was listening to him, not me,” he said, ignoring Shiro’s protests that he hadn’t been listening on purpose. Matt tugged a dangling piece of lettuce off his sub, flicking it into the abandoned wrapper where it lay on the coffee table. “I’m just saying, if he was choking the chicken in our room, he might want to be ‘your’ something. Either that or he’s just really, really horny.”

 

Shiro considered that for a moment, staring at his fries. “He, uh. It might just be the second one.”

 

Matt pursed his lips. “Yeah,” he said, “He does kind of seem the type. Do you think he knows we could hear him?”

 

Shiro frowned. “Well, he wouldn’t have done it if he knew, right?”

 

“Maybe it’s a thing for him. That’s a thing for some people.”

 

“What, like… exhibitionism?” Shiro tilted his head, brow furrowed. “That doesn’t really seem like his… thing. Does it?”

 

Matt waggled his eyebrows. “I don’t know. Maybe you should ask him.”

 

Shiro hit him.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Hey, Keith, you have a second?”

 

This was stupid. Matt was an idiot, and Shiro was a worse idiot for following his advice. It had been two days since their conversation on the couch, two days since Shiro had to buy Matt a new sandwich after he accidentally knocked it out of Matt’s hands and onto the ground in a fit of overenthusiastic roughhousing. Two days since Matt had set the idea of  _ talking _ to Keith rolling around in Shiro’s head.

 

Too late to turn back now. Keith had stopped, turned and fixed him with that intense gaze of his as he adjusted his bag on his shoulder.

 

“Yeah,” he said, “What’s up?”

 

“Um,” Shiro said, catching up to him, “Nothing, really. Just wanted to ask you about something.”

 

“Okay.” Keith didn’t say anything else, and Shiro realised he was waiting for  _ him _ to say something.

 

“Oh,” he said, “Um.”

 

Keith raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. We should- will you walk with me?” Keith nodded, and it took Shiro a moment to process that Keith was, again, waiting for him. ”Where are- where were you headed?” Shiro asked, nodding towards Keith’s bag. Keith’s brows lifted again as he followed Shiro’s gaze, and he squinted at the strap of his shoulder bag.

 

“Um, library, I think. Was gonna maybe stop for food first.”

 

“Did you skip lunch again?” Shiro asked, concerned, and Keith shook his head.

 

“No, just wanted to grab something quick before studying. Probably gonna be there a while, it’s Montgomery’s shit.”

 

Shiro’s eyes softened, his nerves easing at the way Keith’s brows drew together as he spoke. Shiro would never call the expression a pout to Keith’s face, but....

 

“Her study guides are pretty rough,” he agreed. “Let me buy you coffee? We can go over it together, if you want, see what I can remember.”

 

Keith’s mouth twitched, and he knocked their shoulders together as he fell into step beside Shiro. “You sure you can think back that far? It’s been a few decades, hasn’t it?”

 

“A year and a  _ half _ , Keith,” he said, laughing to try and cover up the strain of anxiety that resurfaced at Keith’s teasing. Keith was barely nineteen. Shiro would be twenty-two next February. Being nineteen  _ felt _ decades away; he knew, looking at himself, that he’d changed drastically in the past few years. Keith would, too, he was sure. Two years from now, Keith could be an entirely different person.

 

“ _ Decades _ ,” Keith said, “Millenia. She probably didn’t even have wrinkles yet when you were in her class.” He tipped his head, eyes narrowed. “I bet you gave her some of those.”

 

Shiro scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Oh, yeah, I was a troublemaker in the days of my youth,” he shot back, “Not like you, of course.”

 

“Of course,” Keith said, and the deadpan confidence of his answer cracked Shiro’s poor attempt at a straight face. Keith bit his lip around a smile at Shiro’s laughter, bringing his fist up to hide it and failing spectacularly. “Shut up, I’m not that bad.”

 

“You are. You wanna talk about wrinkles- I’m pretty sure I’ve seen Iverson  _ literally _ tear his hair out over you. He’s gonna be bald before you graduate.”

 

“He’d be bald before I graduate, anyway. He’s like, eighty.” He shifted the strap of his bag, wincing a little, and Shiro reached over on reflex.

 

“Here, let me.”

 

Keith opened his mouth to protest for a moment but seemed to think better of it, sheepishly handing his bag over to Shiro. “Thanks. My back’s killing me.”

 

“No wonder, this thing weighs a ton. What do you have in here, bricks?” Keith’s mouth twisted, his shoulders twitching in what might’ve been a shrug. “Wait- Keith, what?”

 

“There’s not- it’s rocks, not bricks.”

 

“Rocks.”

 

“Yes. I thought- they were cool looking and I needed them for-” He made a vague gesture, his thumb sliding over his palm in a motion Shiro recognised from watching Keith’s hands twist when he was anxious. “That’s not what’s making it heavy. That’s just my textbooks. And my good binder’s in the laundry so I’m just-”

 

He took a deep breath, shoulders sagging, and Shiro tipped his head sympathetically. “I’ve been putting off doing mine for a while,” he admitted, “I usually wait for Matt so I don’t have to go alone, but I think he’s already done his this week.”

 

Keith snorted. “I usually wait until the middle of the night so I can do mine by myself. It’s quieter.”

 

“I can be quiet,” Shiro offered, and was rewarded by the corner of Keith’s mouth quirking upwards.

 

“Helpless,” he said, and the affection in his tone had Shiro’s heart soaring. He grabbed the door for Shiro, shepherding him into the on-campus coffee shop that was definitely not just a knockoff Starbucks. “Maybe I’ll let you tag along, then. Give me that, I’ll grab our spot.”

 

Shiro nodded, passing off Keith’s bag and doing his best to ignore the way his heart jumped into his throat when their fingers brushed. “You want your usual?”

 

Keith grinned, bumping Shiro with his hip as he moved past him. “You know what I like.”

 

He made a beeline for their usual spot in the back corner, leaving Shiro standing red-faced in the lobby of the coffee shop. Maybe he was being obvious, sure, but that was- Keith was being  _ unfair _ , and probably didn’t even know he was doing it. Even with Shiro’s… conspicuous reactions to Keith’s attention, there was no way Keith could tell just how bad Shiro had it for him. As observant as Keith usually was, he was all but blind to the effect he had on other people. At least, as far as Shiro could tell. There was a (pretty significant) chance that Keith did catch the lingering gazes of those around him, and just didn’t care. Either way, Shiro’s crush had gone largely ignored, which meant they hadn’t talked about it, which meant Keith had no idea that he could incapacitate Shiro with little more than a look or turn of phrase. Hell, even now, Keith was off busying himself with setting up in their corner, oblivious to Shiro’s open-mouthed staring.

 

Shiro was an idiot. A stupid, helpless idiot, without a chance in hell.

 

He needed to get Keith’s coffee.

**Author's Note:**

> i havent published fic in uhhh. 84 years. we will... see if i update this.
> 
> i eat comments for breakfast. feed me seymour


End file.
